No. 1290: The winners

Jaspistos reports: Competitors were asked for a Bellocian verse tale about a Lord Lundy who had some other failing than cry- ing too easily.

I spent the weekend at a house where Belloc often stayed and wrote verse, and his jocular spirit hovered helpfully over my bedside table of judgment. We both thought it a wonderful entry, though he was more disapproving than I when Lundy's weakness turned out to be breaking wind or self-abuse (as a Frenchman he never shared the English lavatorial sense of humour). We disagreed seriously only once: I thought Peter Norman's final rhyme of 'cropper' with 'amour propre' Bellocian; he didn't. So bad luck, Mr Norman and many other excellent tryers, and £8 each to the six win- ners printed below.

Lord Lundy's only interest ('Twas said by those who knew him best) Was BED. But pray don't think that he Was given to depravity. .

Far from it. Blind to Venus' charms He spent his life in Morpheus' arms.

From time to time he woke, and then He'd eat, and go to sleep again.

— An unremunerative way, One might have thought, to pass the day.

But Ciiy people like a lord, Or two, to sit upon their board And so Lord Lundy, while he slumbered, Piled up directorships unnumbered, Conferring, as he snored in bed, Prestige on every letterhead.

(P. M. Knight)

Lord Lundy had no single vice Save that of being too precise;

He raised the most tremendous clamour

At any breach of English Grammar.

• When he was small his nursemaid said `Seeing as how it's time for bed. Which drove Lord Lundy into rages So fierce she left with four weeks' wages.

Grown up, and travelling one day By scheduled flight to Monterrey, He saw a man stand up and cry, 'Hands raise, for I am jacking hi!'

`No, no,' said Lundy; 'that's a howler.

You won't find that approved in Fowler!'

His funeral, I can disclose, Was couched in perfect English prose.

(Paul Griffin) Lord Lundy as a little boy (His doting Mother's pride and joy), Whenever Father, Aunt, or Nurse (Or Butler, which was even worse) Remarked, 'It's cold today (or hot),' Would answer rudely, `No, it's not!'

This, universally applied, Evoked displeasure far and wide: As he grew up, he did not care To mend his ways — till, in despair, His Father made the wise decision To put him into Television, Where he became, quite rapidly, A Media Personality.

Such Punishment may Fate inflict On little boys who Contradict!

(Robert Kingston-Davies) Lord Lundy — whom it would enrage To see a Parrot in a cage — Was subject to the rare Neurosis Psychiatrists call Psittacosis.

In Parliament, where Statesmen meet, It was his habit to repeat (As does that interesting bird) The last remarks that he had heard.

When Ministers said, 'Britain's aim Must be ....', Lord Lundy said the same — Which expedited his Career Until, one night, a fellow Peer (Shorter of Temper than of Breath) Bellowed, 'YOU'RE BORING ME TO DEATH.'

'You're boring me to death,' replied

Lord Lundy; and, to prove it, died. (p. B.)

Lord Lundy, not the tearful one, But Reginald, his Eldest Son, Was, oddly, quite the other way, For he, I much regret to say, Was moved to most unseemly mirth At almost anything on earth.

He once let out a loud guffaw During a Conflict with the Law, And always saw the funny side If anybody went and died; If fuses blew and lights went out, Lord Lundy simply fell about.

When summoned to his Father's bed, Who, with his dying' blessings, said, 'My Son, be good when you come after', The new Lord Lundy died of laughter! (Joyce Johnson) Lord Lundy — due in late July — Uttered his loud post-natal cry On Thursday the fourteenth of June, Which was a good five weeks too soon, And thereby set a precedent Which caused angst everywhere he went.

When he forestalled his wedding night His fiancee (between delight And shame) protested. 'Let's have fun!'

Urged Lundy as he jumped the gun.

Elected Member for South Clyde Lord Lundy, quite abruptly, died.

When friends arrived for his cremation The usher's words were no sensation: 'This Service is for Mr Clore.

His Lordship's was the one before.' (J. C. M. HePPle)